


In My Arms

by BelladonaBaggins



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, so much fluff you could make a couch out of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24922336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonaBaggins/pseuds/BelladonaBaggins
Summary: Companion fic to Not Alone, where Halt and Will begin piecing things back together after Skandia—together, as father and son. This time, Halt revises his own feelings of what Will is going through. Ignores most of book 4. Halt’s POV. Also on fanfiction.net
Relationships: Halt O'Carrick & Will Treaty
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	In My Arms

In My Arms

Halt sighed as he eyed the stack of reports sitting on the desk in his room. So many since he’d been away chasing robbers and escaped criminals and such in the past few weeks. Of course, he’d have had time to balance going out on missions and reviewing those reports if he wasn’t so busy doing double the work on the former. Will had been sick for an entire week—as he had been on and off for a few days or weeks at a time for the past few months—and only now was beginning to show signs of getting better.

Will still slept on the couch, in front of the fireplace. It had become somewhat of a haven for him during his bouts of sickness. That, or it just felt better to sleep somewhere else besides your own bed when you were sick. There must have been some level of comfort of being out of the confinement of your room when you were alone for long periods of time. Halt didn’t get sick very often, but he understood.

And he hated that Will always felt so miserable… about himself, about his sickness, about… Skandia. Halt knew Will hadn’t told him the whole truth of his life in the slave yard, frustratingly. Will did a good job of sealing up most of his thoughts and emotions, that was for sure. Nevertheless, Halt did not prod him to dump it out on him yet; it had been a little over three months since they returned, and Will still needed time to refamiliarize himself with his surroundings and fight off the recurring illnesses.

Two things Halt did know about Will’s… experience in Skandia were the freezing cold temperatures, and the warmweed. Will did not expound upon his warmweed addiction as much as he emphasized how cold he was in Skandia. That’s why Halt always had enough logs in the fireplace and out in the lean-to. The cold haunted his apprentice just as surely as a nightmare. Maybe those two were one in the same.

Though Halt was frustrated that Will determinedly fought and dealt with his inner nightmares without asking for help, he, again, did not force his apprentice to say anything—not yet, anyways. Halt feared Will might fare worse if he was forced to do something like that unwillingly.

Since Will was sleeping out in the living room—tonight he had fallen asleep right after swallowing the last bite of dinner; cleaning the dishes had taken an hour—Halt had had to move his reports to the desk in his own room so as to not wake Will. Halt tended to talk—but more like curse—to himself when looking over reports, especially those that were a waste of time. There were a lot of reports that were a waste of time. There were always a lot of reports that were a waste of time.

Realizing he had been distracted by his thoughts while half-focusing on quite a few of the reports, Halt mentally slapped himself. He shook his head and started over, grumbling.

Halt was just to fall asleep in pure boredom about two hours later, when a timid knock came on his door. He had heard the near-silent footsteps approaching beforehand and unconsciously threw a hand down to his saxe knife at his side. His hand quickly retreated when he realized it was Will on the other side of the door.

“Come in, Will,” Halt said, half-gruff and half-gently, if that was even possible.

Halt was still looking down at his reports as Will walked in, trying to make it seem as if he was still busy and incredibly focused—both of which Halt was not. A long silence passed in the room before Halt realized that Will was waiting for him to speak.

Finally, he looked up at his apprentice and started; Will’s face was darkened and swollen from crying, and his curious brown eyes had lost that spark, and were dimmed and wide in fear. Will’s shoulders shook beneath the heavy blanket draped around him. He stood slightly stooped in one position, tense muscles barely moving. His arms tightened around himself as Halt made eye contact with him.

More than concerned, Halt stood up and went over to the boy, hands on his arms. “What’s the matter, Will?” he asked softly.

Will winced despite Halt’s quiet tone, and looked away. By Gorlog’s beard, the boy was so tense. He was afraid of something.

“Will,” Halt said, more sharply this time.

Will took a few shuddering breaths before saying, so quietly that Halt strained to hear even standing right in front of him, “You… you said a couple days ago that… that… that if I needed someone to talk to… uhm… that…” Will gulped. 

Why is he so terrified? Halt wondered.

“Halt, I think… I think I need to…,” Will continued, “uhm, that is, I mean…” It was here that Halt realized that Will was on the brink of tears. The only thing holding them back was the tension in his body, and the way he bit his lip every time he paused.

“You can talk to me, Will. Go ahead and sit down.” Halt motioned to his bed. With slow, tense movements, Will shut the door behind him and sat at the foot of Halt’s bed. With arms still hugging himself, Will swung his bare feet over the side of the bed, not quite reaching the floor. His time in Skandia had seemed to stall his growth spurt.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt you,” Will said just as quietly as he had moved. His Ranger’s training was still instinct for him. Good.

Halt frowned, sensing the shame in Will’s voice and wondering where it came from. “You didn’t interrupt anything.” He turned his desk chair to face Will and sat down, hands folded in his lap. “What’s the matter?”

“I just… I…” Will breathed. Almost inaudibly, he continued, “I’ve been having nightmares.”

A pause, then, “I know.”

Will looked up and croaked, “You do?”

Halt shrugged. “I would have nightmares too, after… after Skandia.”

Will looked away, face flushed.

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed about it,” Halt said, reaching out to touch Will’s knee.

“I just thought I’d let you know. You said you’d be there for me. So… so I…” His voice trailed away.

“That isn’t the whole reason why you came to me.”

Will looked up. “Huh?”

“You came here to tell me that you’re having nightmares, and one other reason. Spill.”

Will shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders even though it didn’t need adjusting. He purposely looked anywhere besides at Halt.

Halt nodded to himself; he was right about that, at least. But how he was going to squeeze the rest of it out of Will, he didn’t know yet. So he sat next to Will on the bed and slipped an arm around him. Will barely moved at the gesture, but did seem more relaxed with his master next to him than without.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” Will murmured.

Halt frowned slightly, recalling their conversation about that very thing a few nights ago. “You’re not, Will. You never will be.”

Will sniffed on the verge of tears. “I know, Halt. But… sometimes… sometimes I feel so alone anyways. In my mind, at least. Or during nightmares. Always during nightmares.” He added the last part in that whisper-soft voice again. “It’s just hard to sleep again when I have a nightmare. I… I can’t…”

Halt nodded in understanding. He’d sensed Will’s ever-present exhaustion throughout the past three months, even when Will went to bed early and slept in late. That had made training hard on Will’s body, whenever he was well enough to train, which was not often. The dark circles underneath the boy’s eyes had become a natural part of him, and the way he stooped as he walked was evidence of his lack of sleep.

But Halt was unsure how to confront the issue. He had comforted Will when he cried or was close to crying, he’d held the boy’s hand in a fatherly grasp as he fell asleep—this had happened twice, and both times, Halt had fallen asleep with him—and he’d smoothed Will’s hair and given him words of encouragement. All external things that Halt could do, without hesitation, for the boy that was like his son. Internal issues—that was something Halt couldn’t fix with a needle and thread. He’d tried, yes, but wasn’t sure if it made a difference or not.

For now, he settled on pulling Will closer to him with both arms. Will hesitated, then reciprocated. He cried silently into Halt’s chest while Halt repeated into Will’s hair, “You’ll be alright, son. You’ll be okay. I’m here, I’m here.”

For a moment, just a brief moment, Halt was about seventeen years younger, and a thunderstorm boomed overhead in the dark night sky. Rain trailed over the hood of his mottled cloak yet his face was yet. The only other thing shading him and the bundle in his arms from the rain was a collection of rocks just outside of a large forest. Abelard managed to lay down next to him under the tall rocks. Thunder crashed and lightning illuminated the sky for the briefest of moments. The bundle in Halt’s arms trembled.

It was a baby he held, just a few weeks old. Halt had wrapped the little boy in two thick blankets to keep him warm, and held him tight against his chest with part of Halt’s cloak around him as well. Gently, ever so gently, Halt hushed the baby, and rocked him soothingly. When the baby wouldn’t stop crying, Halt wondered if he was doing it wrong. He hadn’t much experience with young children, much less babies. He continued muttering words of comfort to the lad anyways: “You’ll be alright, boy. No need to be afraid. The storm isn’t going to hurt you, I promise. I’m here. I’m here, Will.”

Halt jolted back to the present day, gasping softly. The memory was so… real. It was happening all over again—except instead of a rainy night on the trip to Redmont fief to bring Will to the Ward, Will was now almost seventeen years old, and afraid of the storm within him instead of the storm without.

But in both instances, he was held tight in Halt’s arms.

“Halt?” Will said through a tear-scratched voice.

“Yes, Will?”

“Uhm…” he cleared his throat and shifted a little, obviously nervous. “I was just wondering… uhm… and you don’t have to say yes, but… I…”

Halt let out a short chuckle and squeezed one of Will’s shoulders. “Say what you want, Will.”

“Uhm… okay. Uhm… would it be alright… would it be alright if I slept with you tonight? In your bed, I mean. Just… uhm… so I’m not alone.” He had slowly unraveled himself from Halt’s arms as he spoke, and regained his shy position of arms hugging himself and head bowed, as if he were embarrassed of something.

“If you want to, Will, you can,” Halt said. “If you feel like you need to, I won’t stop you.”

“Really?” Will seemed surprised by that.

Halt couldn’t help but smile and shake his head at the boy. Then his voice became more serious. “I know you don’t want to be alone. It’s alright.”

After a moment in thought, Will looked up at him with a weak, wet smile. “Thank you.”

Halt nodded. “You don’t need to be afraid to ask me anything, son. Now. To bed with you. Go on.”

He ushered Will to one side of the bed, where Will quickly slipped under the blankets. After making sure Will was settled and comfortable, Halt brought a candle to a side table, and sat up on the other side of the bed next to Will with a few reports on his lap.

Will did not fall asleep right away, of course, and he did a rather good job of staying still for the most part, Halt thought as he looked over the reports with disinterest.

Eventually Will’s shifting and quiet noises of discontentment made Halt sigh. “You’re not going to be able to sleep if I’m not asleep, huh?” He raised an eyebrow at Will.

Under the layers of blankets, Will sheepishly shook his head, looking so innocent for a teenager. In Halt’s eyes—and many others’—Will was still naught more than a boy. He was more than that to Halt, though—he was his son, even if they weren’t blood related.

Halt had a faint memory of long, long ago, when, as a young boy, his own father would hold him as he fell asleep. It had been a rare occurrence for the king to have time at night to spend time with him, and it was only when Halt was a teenager—around Will’s age—when he ran away from home forever, that he regretted not savoring those moments with his father.

Shaking away those uncomfortable memories, Halt moved closer to Will and held him in his arms again. At first, Will tensed in surprise, then his breaths became more even, and finally, he melted completely.

“G’night, Halt,” Will murmured against Halt’s chest.

“Goodnight, son.”

Sighing deeply, Halt closed his eyes and leaned back. The image of baby Will crying and whimpering in the thunderstorm still seemed so stark. So long ago, so different situations… and yet… they were the same. Past and present seemed to overlap for brief moments as Halt fell asleep holding his son.

Yet again, in the midst of the storm, Will was in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s another RA father-son fluff fic for you, my beautiful children! The responses to Not Alone, all of the comments and reviews and follows and kudos, were too much for me to ignore writing this. I appreciate all of your love and support! I hope you enjoyed reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> I am currently planning that multi-chapter fic. Most of it is in my head since I’ve no idea how to convey it in an outline. For my normal writing (I’m currently writing a book), I am definitely an outline writer. With fanfiction, I’m more of a discovery writer. No plan, no outline, just a vague idea of a story. Anyways, for that multi-chapter fic, I’ll definitely need an outline… either that, or I’ll write most of it before publishing the first chapter. It’s gonna have a whole lot of Will!whump and fatherly Halt and hurt/comfort and angst—the whole nine yards. Trust me. I’m a sadistic writer/reader. I’m thinking of the title “Reopened Scars.”
> 
> Another thanks to all of my precious lovelies who liked my last fic—this one is for you!
> 
> Belladona Baggins


End file.
